


keep you in my sights (won't let you go far)

by imaginejolls



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: F/F, Face-Sitting, Femslash February, First Time, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Post-Season/Series 01, Reunion, Threesome - F/F/F, Vaginal Fingering, absolutely none of this will be canon in s2 i just think it's neat:), kind of, realising you were in love with your unit all along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29764122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginejolls/pseuds/imaginejolls
Summary: Tally and the journey to seeing her unit again. And the things that come after she does.
Relationships: Abigail Bellweather/Raelle Collar/Tally Craven
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	keep you in my sights (won't let you go far)

**Author's Note:**

> this concept has been in the works since last summer. took many months of not writing and several re-writes to arrive here. i am very pleased i managed to finish it during femslash february still. enjoy!

Tally doesn’t sleep. She lies in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, and she feels her heart break into a million pieces over and over as the scene plays out before her eyes: Abigail rushes out to Raelle’s side. The two of them just lying there, rapidly disappearing from view while Tally screams herself hoarse. When Tally eventually drifts into sleep, it is uneasy, unrestful. In the morning, she doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror. It takes all of her strength to keep herself together somehow, without shattering to pieces. Tally isn’t sure how she manages that at all. The thought of seeing her unit again is what keeps her going. She _must_ see them again. 

They appear in her dreams. Two far-away figures, shrouded in mist. Tally knows it is them, walking hand in hand. She can never tell whether they’re getting closer of further away. 

Tally doesn’t eat. The other Biddies look at her with scorn. Alder doesn’t look at her at all. Nobody has heard Tally say more than three words at a time, besides maybe Anacostia. The pity in her eyes is almost palpable.

“There is a way to reverse the-” Anacostia starts. She speaks softly, as though to a child. Tally can’t stand it. 

“I’ll do it.” Her voice comes out creaky with unuse.

“It is difficult. Painful.” _There’s a chance you might not make it_ , is what Anacostia isn’t saying.

Tally’s eyes are as hard as steel. “I can handle it.”

To become a Biddy is, to some, the highest honour one can ever hope to receive. Yet here Tally is, throwing it away. Judgement drapes over her like a second skin that she can’t seem to shed. _Fuck them all_ , she thinks. _I’ve never asked for this._

Tally lives. Alder seems pleasantly surprised, but Tally doesn’t linger long enough to see why. She spends an hour looking at herself in the mirror. The features of her face seem unfamiliar again, for entirely different reasons now. She covers the mirror with a sheet. 

Time passes as though against its own will. Abigail’s mother is leading the search parties, though most of the Base think there’s no use for them any more. Tally looks at her and sees the same dark circles under her eyes, the same quiet resolution in them, the same undying flame of hope. The General gives her a small nod. (“The search parties are a waste of our time,” Tally hears someone say in the mess hall, and it takes all of her will not to strangle them right there.)

Tally _sees_ them before she actually sees them. She’s never run as fast as she does then, not even during training. Flying, almost, or so will people say. She reaches them before anyone else does, bursts into their magic bubble and falls into their arms. The three of them collapse to the forest floor. Tally can barely see through her tears but she looks at them, touching their faces with disbelieving fingers: her thumb brushes across Abigail’s eyebrow, her fingers trace the scar on Raelle’s jaw, and she weeps violently in their embrace. They are alive. They are alive. They are alive. 

The Bellweather unit becomes inseparable. There is never one without the other two being nearby. Tally stands silent as a statue while Abigail and Raelle are questioned, tested, prodded and questioned again. The three of them walk as one, move as one, breathe as one. 

“I bet they all sleep in one bed, too,” snickers someone who’s young enough to not know better. Someone who does shoves them. Tally, Raelle and Abigail move past without so much as looking at them. 

Most nights, they do. Abigail’s bed has been pushed to the bunk, making enough space for three bodies. Rest continues to be difficult to come by. Sometimes they talk about where they’d go if they could. About the homes they’ve had and about the home they could have, maybe, if things were different. 

“Life in the Cession isn’t glamorous,” says Raelle with a voice soft like Tally’s favourite t-shirt, “or easy. But it is good. We could have a cabin in the woods.” 

Abigail laughs a little. “The village witches. You’d be the healer, Tally would tell people’s futures, and I’d be the one everyone is scared of.” 

Before Tally realizes that it’s happening, it is well underway. Or maybe it has happened a long time ago, and she was too blind with grief to see it. One day she wakes up, and Raelle is pressed snug against the line of her back, her lips warm on the nape of her neck.

“Morning,” Abigail says as she watches the realization dawn upon Tally’s face. There’s a smile hiding in her eyes.

“Mornin’,” Raelle mumbles into Tally’s skin. Her body is warm and familiar, wrapped around Tally like a blanket. Tally has woken up between them countless of times, but this time it finally hits her, the fact that what’s linking them all together is love, has always been love. She turns to her back and Raelle moves with her, drapes herself over Tally’s left side as if she’s always belonged there. Raelle does, belong there. Right by Tally’s side, same as Abigail.

It is her who kisses Tally first. She does so with a steady mouth and a sigh she can’t contain. Tally understands. It means _there you are_ and _finally_... Tally exhales slowly and opens her eyes to look at Abigail, Abigail with sleep-mussed hair and half-awake smile, and she thinks, Goddess, what did I do to deserve all this love? Abigail’s eyes are soft now as they rest upon Tally’s face with incredible tenderness. Tally kisses her eyelids. Abigail’s lashes flutter underneath her lips, and Tally traces their line with the tip of her nose. It’s an unusual sensation, kind of funny. They all smile about it.

Raelle’s lips on Tally’s feel like a healing salve on a cut: soothing but leave tingles in their wake. The simplest brush of mouths ignites a flame in the pit of Tally’s stomach. She pulls Raelle in for more. Abigail slots herself against Tally’s back, as easy as that, and begins finding every sensitive spot on Tally’s neck. 

There are hands on her body. Tally doesn’t keep track of whose are where or when, can’t, really. She is preoccupied with tasting the skin in between Raelle’s collarbones, with tracing the shape of Abigail’s nipple with her tongue, with putting her own hands everywhere they can reach on both of their bodies. Eyes half closed, she draws a map of their bodies in her mind. Where Abigail curves, Raelle’s hip bone juts out. Opposites, dark and light, the sun and the moon. Tally doesn’t know what that makes her, except for _theirs_. Wholly, utterly. The need to take and be taken, claim and be claimed, own and be owned takes her by surprise. Tally gasps for breath. And there Raelle is, smiling gently, saying “Take it easy now, there’s no rush.” Except there is, kind of, because they died, kind of, and Tally needs them, now and forever, needs them so much it hurts. Abigail wraps an arm around her torso, her hand rests above Tally’s heart. 

“Breathe now,” she says, and they all do. Breathe in, breathe out. In tandem. “Better?” 

Tally takes another slow breath before she nods. “Yeah. I want your hand inside me.” 

She can’t see Abigail’s expression, but Raelle’s face speaks for them all. 

“Now you’re talking,” Abigail husks into her ear, and Tally gets that much wetter. 

Abigail stretches in a languid show of skin and muscle to retrieve an inconspicuous bottle out of a drawer. Tally won’t be in need of it, but the gesture is appreciated. She shimmies out of her shorts, takes off her tank top while she’s at it, and catches Raelle’s mouth in a sloppy, off-centre kiss that makes them giggle. Abigail presents Tally with her hands. One of them is curled around the bottle of lube, so Tally takes Abigail by the other wrist and guides her hand between her thighs. They both sigh at the contact. Abigail takes a cursory swipe through Tally’s folds. She traces the slit of her, clit to her opening and back again, and Tally squirms underneath her. A kiss lands on Tally’s shoulder; Raelle looks up at her from where she’s nestled into her side. She’s still wearing clothes. 

“I think you should be more naked,” Tally informs her and watches the brilliant smile that takes over Raelle’s face. 

“Then you should do something about it.” 

“I would, but I’m a little busy here,” Tally says as she wraps her fingers around Abigail’s wrist once more to guide her hand down and push, _oh_ , inside. Abigail is very clever and quick to figure out what works for her. Soon she has Tally moaning into Raelle’s lips, hand fisted in the worn cloth of her t-shirt, but it takes both of them to make Tally fall apart Abigail’s fingers and right into Raelle’s arms. They lie nestled together for a while. Tally is surrounded by familiarity and comfort, Raelle’s warmth and Abigail’s scent. It feels a lot like home. She turns in Raelle’s embrace, presses her nose against Raelle’s. 

“Hey,” Raelle says. 

“Hi. You ready to be more naked now?” 

A grin. “Absolutely.” 

“Awesome,” Tally breathes out before moving so suddenly she almost knocks the air out of Abigail. A litany of “oh no”s and “I’m so sorry”s later, Raelle’s tank top hits the floor. Two mouths descend upon her body. Her pale skin blooms beautifully with colours Tally and Abigail bring to life. Raelle’s witch’s mark glitters on the very inside of her thigh. Tally bows her head down to trace it with her tongue. She can smell Raelle’s arousal. The realisation does incredible things to her own body. She looks up to watch Raelle and Abigail kiss. It’s like watching the sea, the push and pull of it, sharp teeth and soothing tongues, and rawness you can only ever feel in nature. Raelle catches her looking. She winks. 

“I think Abigail should sit on my face while you finger me,” she says to Tally. 

Oh, _yes_.

“I agree,” Abigail says. She drags her underwear down her legs so she can plant her knees on either side of Raelle’s head, facing Tally. Tally rises to her knees so she can kiss her. When Raelle pulls Abigail down onto her mouth, Abigail moans into Tally’s mouth and the sound makes Tally’s clit pulse with arousal. 

Tally straddles Raelle’s thigh. She gets struck by the sight of Raelle’s hands nestled in the dip of Abigail’s waist. All she can see from Raelle’s face is her jaw, working insistently. Abigail’s face speaks of pleasure. Her hips rock forwards and back, and Tally is transfixed by the motion, echoes it unknowingly on top of Raelle’s thigh. She reaches out for the lube. Raelle’s abdominals twitch when she first touches her. Tally traces the shape of her and she watches carefully for Raelle’s reaction to her exploration. It’s thrilling to figure her out. Raelle is good at hiding things when she wants to be, but to them she bared herself more than Tally could ever anticipate. Now she’s put herself at Tally’s mercy. If she had time to think about it, Tally would probably feel all sorts of way about it, but in this moment there’s only hot, empowering need and her hand in between Raelle’s thighs. Eventually, she finds a rhythm that leads to a chain reaction. Raelle goes tense, muscles quivering, and she must do something because Abigail almost topples over. She catches herself on Tally’s shoulders. Her eyes are wild. 

“Holy hell,” Abigail says, voice hoarse. 

“Seconded,” Raelle chimes in from underneath her. Tally continues rubbing herself on her thigh. She doesn’t come again, but it feels good anyway. There’s mess all over Raelle’s leg when she moves off. 

They catch their breath in silence. The sun is streaming in through the windows, making Tally wonder what time it is. It feels like an eternity has passed. It feels like no time has passed at all. 

“We should hit the showers.” Abigail, always the voice of reason. 

“Anacostia is going to eat us alive.”

“Do you think she swings that way?” Raelle muses. 

“Raelle!”

Tally sleeps through the night. This time, she wakes up by the wall. She blinks into the early morning light. Abigail is closest to her, but all she can see of her is a wild tangle of hair and a sliver of her nape. Raelle is all limbs, the blanket all stolen by Abigail. Her arm is thrown across Abigail’s body, hand so close that Tally could kiss her knuckles if she wanted to. In this moment, Tally’s heart feels so full she almost chokes. These girls are her home. It took her way too long to realise. Now that she has, she is never letting them go.


End file.
